


safe like springtime

by californiasjewel (orphan_account)



Series: larry oneshots [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Comeplay, Fluffy, Innocent Harry, Just a small bit, M/M, Mild Smut, Mildly Underage, Virgin Harry, but idk, harry is 16, i may be overtagging, lou is 18, no actual actual sex, not enough to mark it i don't think, religious harry, very fuckin fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 04:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/californiasjewel
Summary: Harry Styles is sixteen years old and a virgin in every sense of the word.That's when Louis Tomlinson comes along.AKABabyboy!Harry has his sexual awakening to wet dreams of his boyfriend, Louis. Awkwardness, fluff, and smut ensue.





	safe like springtime

**Author's Note:**

> first time poster on ao3 :P please go easy on me, but i do want feedback! if anyone wants to beta for me in the future or give edits/suggestions to this, i would love if you did!
> 
> title from 'Lucky Strike' by Troye Sivan

Harry Styles is sixteen years old and a virgin in every sense of the word.

 

Sure, he's heard the rumours, and knows his dick gets hot and hard sometimes, along with how to fix it when he doesn't succumb to following the priest's suggestion of a cold shower or going to sleep. He knows who he fancies and likes kissing until both he and his partner are red, hot, and breathless, but doesn't dream of anything beyond kissing for the first sixteen years of his life.

 

That's when Louis Tomlinson comes along.

 

Almost every non-pure thought Harry's had in his life stem from the pretty older boy from his school.

 

An all-boys Catholic college doesn't seem like a viable place for Harry to meet the love of his life, but when an older boy with eyes that look like heaven and thighs as soft as clouds came along, almost everything Harry had known up until this point in his life had been thrown out the window.

 

Eight months ago, the pretty boy became Harry's first real kiss; the romantic scene took place in the front of Louis' awfully beat up car. After offering the younger boy a ride home from his journalism club meeting, Louis all but pounced on him as they pulled up to his house. Harry, whipped little lad he was, immediately kissed back for only a few seconds before admitting to Louis he was his first and (awkwardly) exiting the car.

 

If his mom noticed his extreme blush or semi in his uniform trousers, she chose not to question him about it.

 

Since then, kissing has become a regular thing with them-- along with dates, hanging out, and bothering each other at every opportunity; even at school, they remain borderline connected at the hip and keep as close as two men can under the Catholic church's supervision. Almost every day now, Louis drops Harry off at home, save for club meetings or the former's semi-regular detentions, and they often stay at one of their houses for at least an hour beyond that.

 

Harry has never doubted a single thing with Louis.

 

Until the dreams started.

 

The first happens in May, mostly foggy but still left in Harry's mind well after waking up. He remembers the surprisingly vivid, realistic feeling of Louis' teeth on his neck and the same boy pressed against a wall under Harry. He felt so small under the taller lad's body.

 

He also was able to recall the feeling of their clothed bulges seesawing with each other for friction desperately.

 

When he wakes up, Harry finds it was only a pillow against his lower region.

 

That night Harry allowed himself a wank for the first time in a while. He releases to the thought of rutting into Louis' thigh, just like he does with his mattress tonight. He prays before falling asleep, as groggy as coming had made him, and hopes to God he will ever be able to look Louis in the eye again.

 

He doesn't say that last part out loud.

 

*

 

Louis sits with his legs crisscrossed on Harry's carpeted bedroom floor, Harry himself on the bed. While the latter fiddles with his fingers and stares off, Louis is "studying" for exams-- more accurately sitting with an open book in his lap and rambling about his day.

 

"And Liam was, like, panicking, right? He keeps making eye contact with me as if I personally have any fu-ckin' clue what's going on." Harry laughs, entertained, but keeps facing his lap. "Then, after the testing period ends, fucker comes up to me and asks what a mitochondria is. Mitochondria."

 

Louis is embellishing his story now with giggles. Harry is just barely paying attention, but the sound of his boyfriend's laugh is enough to push a smile out of him.

 

"Yeah, definitely," Harry comments dazedly. Louis is quick to react by hitting him in the arm.

 

"Oi, wanker, you weren't even paying attention!" Louis accuses, scoffing.

 

Harry just-as-quickly fixes his posture, looking Louis in the face but not quite making eye contact. "I was totally listening, Lou! Liam's a knobhead, all that."

 

Louis readjusts himself and meets Harry's eyes way too confidently. Harry shrinks away from it quickly, most likely enabling Louis' knack for accusations.

 

"What exam was it?"

 

Blushing and squirming, Harry quietly answers, "biology."

 

Louis quickly jumps to his feet. "Hah! No!"

 

Harry huffs. "You said mitochondria."

 

"'t's why it's funny! I have no clue what he was doing asking me about that on a sociology exam. You completely missed the punchline, love."

 

Harry crosses his arms and pouts, choosing not to respond to Louis. He has enough of an influence over Harry already, if he knew his true powers, the poor lad would never get a break.

 

"Awh, look who's being a pouty baby." Louis sits on the bed, front of his hips way too close to Harry's bum and slings both arms around him from the back. Totally innocent. Harry knows that somewhere deep inside him, but he still jumps at the too-close touch.

 

"Oh, uhm, sorry," he quietly apologises, leaning back into Louis, not quite as intimately as previously positioned.

 

Louis is quick to adjust, accommodating to Harry's movements. Harry fits against his body perfectly. "You okay love?" Louis asks. "Kinda, I dunno, off, today."

 

Harry shrugs, allowing a shallow smile to pull his lips.

 

"Yeah, just stressed, I think."

 

Teasingly, Louis pinches the skin of his cheek. In that moment, he lets them both fall back onto the pillow behind them. "Poor baby, not used to his big boy exams."

 

"Shut up." Harry swats and grabs Louis' wrist, but, instead of letting him pull away, lets their hands rest.

 

They cuddle that night.

 

Harry declares himself one step closer to death by Louis Tomlinson.

 

*

 

After seven days free of another hot dream, Harry thought he was in the clear.

 

He was mistaken.

 

Three weeks after the first dream, two more had occurred, the first of the two more innocent than the following.

 

The second was playful, more than sex-driven. While cuddling, they ended up making out, and Harry had made a more-than-not-okay sound in the back of his throat when Louis' tongue met his own.

 

While he woke up with an erection, hardly any damage had been done and he lulled back to sleep without pulling himself off.

 

The third started a downward acceleration.

 

It happens two weeks into summer holidays, one Sunday morning before church.

 

Harry wakes up to find his pants wet and sticky. Though no reason is presented alongside the phenomenon, he can form a reasonable guess based on the dream he had the night before, which he half-remembers in the morning.

 

This time, a bed was present. Louis laid on it looking like the most heavenly creature Harry could ever think up; he was the prettiest gift under the Christmas tree all laid out especially for Harry. In the dreamy state, the details looked like clouds and indistinct to recall, but he does remember the bloody vision Lou was with a loose-fitting purple shirt that hung off his shoulder in a delicious dishevelled fashion. Underneath that were red boxer briefs with blue accents.

 

He leans forward to kiss the small boy, at some point. It was delicate, gentle, and the biggest turn-on imaginable by the human mind. He doesn't think he could ever kiss his boyfriend like this in real life without exploding like a firework.

 

The rest is fuzzy, desperation and in-dream horniness, but he does remember coming hard directly onto Louis' thigh while rutting into it.

 

In real life, Harry wakes up to find it's his pillow he had been grinding into instead of his boy's plush thighs. Quickly, he stands up, sprints to the shower, and puts all of his mental efforts into forgetting this had ever happened. If his mind ever brings this up again, Harry swears he will shoot himself, and he hopes this won't become a problem while trying to get into Heaven in the future.

 

Yep, Harry's fucked.

 

Before leaving for church, he takes off the poor, abused pillow cover and throws it in the wash among a load of his older sisters clothes.

 

*

 

After church, Harry leaves his parents to wait for Louis to pick him up. His physical shaking seems to be stealth, as his parents didn't comment on it.

 

When he first got into the car, he was nervous.

 

Unsurprisingly, as Louis knows him better than anyone else, he notices. Surprisingly, he drops the topic after Harry responds, "yeah," to his, "are you okay, love?" Harry has a feeling that won't be be the last of it, but he thankfully accepts the dismissal.

 

"I don't know if I told you, but Mum won't be home today."

 

Harry smiles, somehow blushing at the words. "Hmm, yeah?"

 

"Yeah." Louis pauses before dramatically suggesting, "No 'doors open' rule."

 

It wasn't weird, never is between them, but that doesn't stop Harry's cheeks from heating. Despite this, he forces a smile out of himself and hopes for it to neutralise his startle.

 

"How long will she be out? I already told my parents I was staying over..."

 

"Maybe two-ish. She's at a wedding or something, but she knows you're over. She trusts you with me; don't worry, babes."

 

Harry smiles. "Mmkay, sounds good."

 

"Tonight you'll be able to wear as little clothes as you'd like without giving me poor mum a scare."

 

Harry laughs small, but still tries to act normal despite the proposition.

 

"Heyyy, I know I'm ugly, but dang," he pouts.

 

Leaning over, Louis giggles before kissing the site of Harry's frowned lip.

 

"Awh, poor baby. A forty-five-year-old woman doesn't want to see you in your pants."

 

Harry deepens his pout. Louis just laughs at him.

 

*

 

“Should’a just locked the door when you had the chance! But, no, now she’s dead.”

 

Harry giggles at his boyfriend’s aggression. After the third B-list horror movie of the night, Harry was getting tired, but Louis is on yet another rant about the decision-making skills of the protagonists.

 

“They have to be stupid, Lou, or there’s no movie,” he tries. Louis just huffs and crosses his arms, plopping down right onto Harry’s lap; the air gets knocked right out of him, but Louis’ dramatised pout doesn’t falter.

 

Gently, Harry grabs both of Louis’ hands and uncrosses his arms. His frown turns into a smile, and Harry tries his best not to think about just how tiny he is, hands barely taking up space within the younger lad’s; he could surely fit one hand around both of Lou’s. He gave up control so easily, letting his arms be bent however Harry moved them--

 

Louis leans in and rests his forehead against Harry’s; the latter can feel eyelashes ghosting on his own and the tips of their noses almost touch. Louis quietly whispers, “we should maybe go to bed about now.”

 

Harry smiles. Keeping the same soft tone, he replies, “yeah, maybe we should.”

 

As they walk up the stairs, Harry finds himself looking a little too intently and often at Louis’ ass and thighs. He tries to be mad at himself, he really, truly does, but can’t find it in himself-- it’s common knowledge  Louis has the best body of all time, can his boyfriend really be blamed for appreciating it?

 

When they get to the room, Louis throws himself onto the bed, lying laid out. Harry follows and lands on the arm of the smaller boy.

 

“Get offf,” Louis whines as he pushes Harry, yet remains unable to move him. “Fuckin’ wanker.”

 

Harry just laughs at his boyfriend’s struggling and moves further onto him, also pinning him down with legs and hips. Louis struggles against the force but Harry doesn’t stammer.

 

He turns over so that their stomachs are met and leans up onto his arms and-- oh, this looks familiar.

 

The pause causes Harry to falter, leaving him weak enough for Louis to wiggle his way out from under him. "Hell yeah!" Louis cries excitedly, smile almost breaking his cheeks like a happy toddler. It only takes him looking to Harry for his mood to almost immediately shift. "What's wrong, baby?"

  
  


Harry knows his cheeks must be pink currently and feels himself flush with further embarrassment at Louis' acknowledgement of it. "Uh, nothing. It's, uhm, hot in here. Yeah, hot. Summer, yeah."

 

Louis suspiciously says, "okay," dragging out the y, and that seems to be the last of it. Until he just  _ had _ to suggest, "You should take your shirt off, love."

 

"I, uh, can't," Harry quickly excuses.

 

Louis smiles with a little more entertainment that his face had previously held. "And why is that, Haz?"

 

"I'm, uhm,--" Harry knows what he's about to say before he says it, and, honestly, he has not a single clue which parts of his brain allowed it, but he wants them fired immediately. But, the words had already formed and his mouth and, despite realising what he's about to say, he let's the words tumble out of his stupid, big, mouth. "I'm on my period."

 

He cringes immediately before the words had even fully settled. Through his crunched eyes, he can see Louis, paused and now open-mouthed, definitely at a loss. Harry regrets every single thought he's ever had.

 

"I," Louis starts very unsure, seemingly toeing the line and doing mental jumping jacks to formulate an adequate response to Harry's blatant lie, "I'll give you a second to think about that one, H."

 

Harry nods, shutting his eyes tighter,  _ tighter. _ "I know."

 

Small, Louis laughs. "Do you know all of it, though?--"

 

"Yeah--."

 

"How you don't have a--."

 

"I know--."

 

"--vagina."

 

"Yeah--."

 

"And even if you did--."

 

"Mhm--."

 

"--it wouldn't affect your--."

 

"--I know."

 

"--boobs."

 

"Yeah."

 

Harry wants to evaporate.

 

Louis smiles at him, wetly kissing his cheek before resuming his position sitting on his feet. "'m not gonna press, but just know that there's nothing wrong with showing your chest; I only tease, love. Also, no need to ever be insecure, around me or in general. You're perfect, Haz." He gives another kiss, this time to Harry's collarbone where his pyjama shirt hangs loose.

 

Harry doesn't tell him that most definitely didn't help, instead, giving in to make Lou happy. He kisses him quickly. "Fine. But I'm staying under the covers."

 

That seems to make Louis happy. He smiles brightly. "Deal, long as we cuddle."

 

*

 

The next week, the two are home alone at Harry's, a rare occurrence in their relationship; they're hardly ever left without parental supervision and generally are sharing the house with siblings at minimum. The freedom felt incredible, even if it was spent doing their normal routine of cuddling in bed, binge-watching any random TV or Netflix series, and talking of nothing.

 

"I highly doubt she's  _ actually  _ pregnant. Liam is the last of our friends who'd have unprotected sex," Louis concludes. He had spent the previous twenty minutes filling Harry in on the rumours he had heard third-hand while Black Mirror plays on the TV.

 

Harry nods. "Liam's got his life together. Even if she's pregnant, surely not his." Louis  _ 'oo' _ s in a very stereotypical gossiping teenager voice, causing Harry to laugh then slightly hit his arm.

 

Dropping the topic, Louis sighs and nuzzles further into the slack of Harry's t-shirt-- Harry thinks his obsession with his smell is slightly strange, but he'd be a hypocrite to admit that. Harry continues to pet his hair gently.

 

"Do'ya feel like we're wasting this time alone at all?" Harry asks genuinely.

 

Louis looks up at him. "Hmm, maybe. What do you mean?"

 

"Like, I dunno. Most kids our age would be causing trouble right now. What's wrong with us, Lou?"

 

Louis laughs a little. "Hmm, I'm not sure. You're an annoyingly good influence on me, Styles."

 

"Nuh uh," Harry pouts. "I'm cool."

 

"Prove it, badass," he challenges. "Also, you literally just said 'nuh uh' in a pouty voice-- that's so adorable."

 

"Let's steal the neighbour's dog!" Harry excitedly says, piquing his boyfriend's interest.

 

"Why stop at the dog? Let's break in!"

 

"Okay, no, never mind." Louis giggles at him. "Hmm, we can steal some of my sister's black nail polish, become proper rebels while she's away."

 

Despite rolling his eyes, Louis childishly smiles.

 

"Ooh! We can raid the fridge!" He says with extreme excitement. "Like, actual genuine idea. I feel self-conscious when your mum's around but you have all the on-brand snacks."

 

"Shush, my mum loves you. Let's go do that if you want."

 

At that, Harry stands up from the bed, but doesn't leave go of his protective hold over his boyfriend. They're touching-- touching way more than they usually do within the vision of parents, but, with no one around to chastise them, they walk down the stairs and into the kitchen gripping onto each other, touch lightly, and kiss over and over again as they make their way to the snack cabinets and refrigerator.

 

"Okay, what first, crisps or straight to the ice cream?" Harry asks, grinning. Louis looks back at him just as deviously.

  
  


*

 

As the last of their snacking trails off, Harry is leaning against the wall while Louis let's his feet dangle from where he's sat on a counter. He sucks on the last of an ice lolly, painting his tongue a strawberry red in the process, while Harry and his own green tongue look around to make sure there's no more mess left.

 

"I love this!" Louis comments, tongue around the Popsicle. "We need the house to ourselves more often."

 

"I agree," Harry says, nodding. "But don't ask my mum for that. She'd either never let you over or make things awkward when you are."

 

Louis smiles. "Awh, baby can't handle the safe sex talk from his mum? Don't you  _ want _ her to give me condoms for my birthday, love?"

 

Blushing, Harry quickly shakes his face away from how hard Louis is looking at him. "Shut up."  
  


 

Not wanting to  _ torture _ his poor boy, Louis does shut up after that, but quickly opens his mouth again.

 

"Now that we've crossed  _ one  _ thing off the list, let's steal a car!"

 

"No," Harry says sternly, but he keeps his smile that eggs Louis on.

 

"Steal your parents' vodka," Louis says like a question.

 

"Less."

 

"Steal your parents'  _ wine _ ."

 

Harry laughs, but still declares, "less."

 

"Blast loud music,--"

 

"Uh--."

  
  


Louis' face quickly swaps to one that reads,  _ oh, now I get it _ . "Have loud sex on the couch."

  
  


The faux proposition leaves Harry unsure what to say, but he knows a blush is certainly heating his cheeks right now.

 

Uncertain where his newfound temporary confidence came from, Harry manages to croak out a half-assed reply of, "rain check?"

 

Louis parts his lips just slightly at that without saying a word, possibly stuttering. Harry can almost feel the dryness of his mouth by looking at him and is sure his own swallowing is loud enough between the two that his boyfriend has surely heard it, but doesn't quite yet drop the cocky act.

 

"I'd suggest next week at my house when me mum'll be out with the little ones, but I don't know. I want  _ Anne  _ to be the one lecturing me about her son's purity."

 

Shaking his head and laughing, Harry lets his audacity fall for a second. "Shut up."

 

Louis laughs again.

 

"Well I do invite you over next week. Though I don't have nearly as many uneaten snacks as you," he says the last part with obvious disappointment.

 

"Of course I'll be there, twelve seasons of Criminal Minds won't watch themselves!"

 

Louis smiles, like the sun. "That'a boy!"

 

*

 

Harry and Louis hardly see each other for the next four days, nor even texting much during the dramatically prolonged time apart. Even though Harry has learned to feel for Juliet during Louis' absence, he does appreciate it.

 

After what Harry will only refer to as the  _ Couch-Kitchen Incident of 2019 _ , he needed thinking time. Because sex is  _ terrifying  _ to pure, little, sixteen-year-old-virgin Harry. Damn, the sweet boy can hardly handle listening to teenage love affair rumours while gossiping without maniacally blushing and feeling heated.

 

So, seeing Louis for the first time since is most definitely reason for concern.

 

Harry has planned almost every possible outcome of the night, and has rehearsed a counteraction for any relevant sentence he can imagine Louis saying. 

 

When he arrives at Harry's, all seems fine. And so does the beginning of the night.

 

And, surprisingly, the night generally has little obstacles.

 

They go to a small funfair, and, regardless of his panic, he's also excited.

 

The two mostly spend the night eating sweets and playing games, the few rides they did go on being among the tamer ones.

 

While in line for candy floss and slushies, Harry gets pushed by a passerby. In case of fall, his hands extend and he tries to grab onto anything to hold him up--

 

He flushes pink when he realises his left hand landed on Louis' stomach and right on the boy's bum.

 

Louis looks up at him with soft, questioning eyes that aren't as harsh as Harry had expected. He smiles as he awkwardly removes his hands from the boy's body and puts them behind his back. He tries to do his best guilty puppy eyes, but doesn't look at Louis enough for him to look anyway.

 

It's almost lost to the noise when Harry hears Louis say, "could'a kept it there, if you wanted."

 

And Harry knows he'll die by the end of the night.

 

Perhaps the most exhilarating ride of the night was the Ferris wheel, which Louis suggested knowing about Harry's fear of heights-- "It'll be romantic," Louis had said, blatantly lying right to Harry's face.

 

They get stuck on the tippy-top, both while boarding and waiting to get off. The first time was fine, Harry focusing on cleaning the dirt from under his nails as a distraction from the clouds at nearly eye-level around him. Louis wrapped a protective arm around his boyfriend, needed to lean up to do so efficiently, but letting Harry snuggle and hide into his neck.

 

During the actual ride, Harry had enjoyed it a lot more, only slightly wincing each time they went up.

 

But, suddenly, they're at the top again.

 

Harry, nervous twat he is, looked over the edge as best he could without risking rocking their cart; his biggest fear at this height, other than the entire ride crumbling under him or a poltergeist plucking him from his seat and simply dropping him to the ground, was the cart ending up a hundred and eighty degrees upside down.

 

Ignoring the sensitivity to movement in the incredibly sketchy carnival set-up Ferris wheel, Louis way-too-quickly-and-carelessly-for-the-situation slides over to Harry, grabs him by the front of his shirt, and kisses him recklessly. The impact causes Harry to whimper from a mix of pleasure and fear. After the noise, he feels Louis smile into the kiss.

 

Harry isn't sure how long they kiss, just knows it's enough to make him distracted and semi-hard.

 

As they're getting off, he spots a semi in Louis' tight jeans that he adjusts awkwardly to hide. Harry feels as if he has the upper hand for almost a full half-second, only hesitating when he realises he's currently sporting a similar problem to Louis. And, yeah, he's never trusting Louis' carnival ride opinions again.

 

The final suggestive encounter happens only when they are back at Harry's house; before letting him leave the car, Louis had climbed over the centre panel to be able to sit between Harry's legs and  _ kiss _ him. Because as fun as the fair was tonight, they didn't get to touch nearly as much as they do while lying in bed all over each other.

 

Harry swears he'd need serious rehabilitation therapy if Louis were to ever leave him.

 

It takes only two minutes for kisses to become open-mouthed, an almost completely unexplored territory for the couple. Heat becomes tangible within minutes and, for what's probably not the first time but definitely the most obvious, Harry becomes aware that Louis is  _ really  _ turned on-- or he can guess so, at least, based off the current feeling against his thigh.

 

Harry would honestly be much more panicked right now if he could find it within himself to feel anything other than  _ hot _ .

 

"Please, Lou," Harry whispers as he pulls away. He doesn't know what he's asking for, what he means, even, but the words feel like they fit to the moment.

 

"Sorry, love," his boyfriend says breathlessly. "I told you, come over on Wednesday, 'll make sure the girls are out."

 

Harry nods eagerly. "Okay."

 

With parted lips and wide, glossy eyes, the boys remain looking at each other, motionless aside from ample breathing for almost forty full seconds.

 

Louis rests their foreheads together in the middle, keeping the upper hand for himself, though. The shell of Harry;s ear is inches from his mouth as he quietly says, "you should go inside, Haz. It's getting late."

 

"Okay." Harry pulls away and hesitantly drops his hands from Louis' waist. "Do I look okay?"

 

Louis smirks. "All blushy and pretty."

 

Harry turns the deepest shade of red he could ever imagine a person being.

 

Lucky for him, his mum had already been tired as he entered the house; if she noticed anything wrong, she didn't mention it.

 

*

 

Harry, admittedly, spends the majority of his night pinching himself before falling asleep.

 

Okay, that may be a lie, but  _ after _ wanking, Harry begins to pinch himself, almost entirely sure he hallucinated the whole make-out session with Louis.

 

He texts Louis, who confirms absolutely no fainting happened on Harry's end.

 

Harry doesn't believe it.

 

*

 

Harry spends the next few days avoiding Louis-- maybe not avoiding, per se, but not clinging to him every possible second, as he usually does.

 

Until Wednesday.

 

They did have established plans for Wednesday, and as much anxiety and alarm he feels awaiting whatever may happen this afternoon, fear only cancels out elation so much. Truth is, any chance to spend time with Louis is positive and tonight has a very solid chance of being completely normal, if not good.

 

Harry gets dropped off at Louis' at three in the afternoon, an hour before Lou's mom and step-dad leave with the (not-quite-)babies, leaving them completely alone.

 

After the click of the door, Harry halfheartedly and awkwardly says, "hi," continuing to watch the  car as it leaves the driveway.

 

"Hi," Louis says, and it becomes apparent that Harry is the only one who seems on edge; Louis shows almost no reaction to his parents leaving and replies to Harry in the most normal way imaginable. Harry feels embarrassment coil in his stomach, also probably reflecting onto his expression and cheeks, but ignores it.

 

Trying to ease the awkwardness that he himself had created, Harry moves closer to Louis and rests his head only a few inches from Louis'. Louis leans in for a small kiss, which Harry shies away from institutionally in his anxious state.

 

Quickly realising his error, he leans in almost too eagerly and hopes Louis didn't catch the stutter under closed kissy eyes.

 

And, of course it doesn't go correctly; it seems every single idea curated by Harry Styles fails anymore. Their noses knock against each other, no biggy, but with the overcompensation on Harry's end, the force causes Louis to yelp and pull away, quickly covering his nose with his hand.

 

"Oh-- oh my gosh, I'm sorry, Lou," Harry tries, but Louis looks at him blankly-- well, blankly is a strong word. Harry can't see the majority of Louis' face, but his eyes are watering and slowly blinking and,  _ shit, I think I messed up _ .

 

"Lou--."

 

"I'm fine," Louis says monotone while a single tear leaks from his left eye.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm kinda dumb."

 

Louis nods. "Yeah. Erm,  _ one _ second." His voice cracks on the third word harry kicks himself at his feet as Louis turns around uncovers his nose to look in a wall mirror.

 

Harry cringes. "Is it bad?"

 

Shaking his head 'no', Louis turns back around. He reveals a fine nose, just a little red at the tip, but his eyes have become red to match and only a few small tears leak from his eyes.

 

Harry frowns. "Baby, I'm so sorry," he says, dragging out the y's. He hugs Louis, basically blanketing him with his arms. The small boy nuzzles into him, wiping his cheeks on the chest of his t-shirt and smiling into it.

 

"Maybe we should go to your room," Harry suggests.

 

Louis laughs. "Yeah, maybe we should." 

  
  


Harry keeps one arm around Louis' shoulders as they walk upstairs, putting the other on his waist to guide him; he knows Louis is competent, probably more so than he is himself, but he wants to baby Louis.

 

In his room, Harry gently tucks Louis under covers, moving them out of the way before laying him down. Louis giggles, but let's Harry coddle him.

 

He presses a big, wet kiss to Louis' forehead before tucking himself in next to his boy.

 

"Princess," Harry declares, smiley. Louis hides his face into the blanket at that. Harry coos under his breath, just loud enough for Louis to hear and blush.

 

"Like when you call me that," Louis comments. Harry beams at that.

 

"I'll make note of it."

 

Louis snuggles closer to Harry and tucks himself into his boyfriend's neck. Harry takes it upon himself to start peppering tiny kisses into Louis' hair and pet him. Louis almost purrs, humming happily under the attention.

 

It only takes a few minutes until Louis takes things into his own hands and leans in for a kiss, immediately initiating open-mouth and  _ hot _ . This takes Harry by surprise, but he pliantly lets Louis lead the kiss and gives his own confidence time to grow before he tries anything himself.

 

When he tries to move his hand from Louis' hair, the small boy whines and places his own on top of Harry's wrist to prevent it. Harry hasn't yet thought himself to be the type to be obedient in bed, but when Louis whines like that he's almost helpless. One hand of Harry's stays on Louis' waist under his shirt, petting up and down, and the other is left in his hair, now grabbing at it more than gently encouraging.

 

Louis speaks so gently that Harry almost doesn't hear, but as he pulls back to catch his breath, his boyfriend undeniably said something along the lines of, "pull my hair." Harry has to bite his lip to avoid embarrassing himself with a noise.

 

"Fff--, okay."

 

Louis smirks at Harry, but it doesn't nearly cancel the dazed and fucked and messy look on his face. Cocky one, he is. Harry decides pulling his hair is proper response to this.

 

When Louis whines, his face dropping from overconfidence to neediness in less than a few seconds, Harry gets a smirk of his own. Louis is too easy, honestly, but Harry is quite entertained by having a little bit of power over the boy.

 

For a second, Harry almost forgets he's the blushing, innocent virgin in bed with the prettiest perfect ten in school. Almost.

 

Louis pushes the covers aside and uses the movement to squirm even closer to Harry; while they had previously just been facing each other, faces together and limbs reaching out, Louis is now practically on top of Harry, one leg draped over Harry's thigh and the other wedged between them. One of Louis' hands holds Harry's jaw, and the other his neck. Harry keeps hold of the smaller boy's hair and his waist, happy with how things are going; suddenly, everything is more intense than it has been before and Harry's previous nerves have been drowned out by the rapid blood flow downward.

 

Due to the position shift, Harry could now feel Louis' erection tapping against his hip and he's sure his own can be felt by the other boy. It's both not enough and too much as his sensitive cock rubs those plush thighs through two pairs of Adidas track pants, and he simultaneously needs to come right now and wants to hold off as long as physical possible-- he needs Louis to know how good he is, that he's a worthy boyfriend, that he was worth the wait.

 

Knowing Louis could get anyone he wanted wasn't quite as discouraging to Harry as it was motivational, and Harry knows he has to make this the best he possible can with his extremely limited knowledge, experience, and skill set.

 

"Fuck, Haz," Louis says, breathy, as he pulls back. "Shirt, off-- off, please."

 

Harry does let out a small noise at that, but Louis' reaction of rutting forward to rub his dick on Harry's abdomen was encouraging. He'd make all the embarrassing noises in the world to get such a reaction out of the precious little boy.

 

Removing his hand from Louis' hair, he reaches it down to the hem of his shirt, blacking out for a second. He's never felt such extreme affection and bliss, and not the hottest days of summer have ever compared to the red of his cheeks currently.

 

He pulls arms up and the thin, grey shirt comes with it. Louis has to adjust his arms to get it off, but, within a few seconds of the removal, his hands are positioned at lowermost edge of Harry's pyjama shirt.

 

Big, blue puppy-dog eyes meet Harry's in a way that asks for permission. Harry quickly nods, shifting his hands above his head to ease the process of Louis removing his shirt. That also gets tossed off somewhere, Harry not able to keep track of anything other than  _ LouisLouisLouis,  _ but it doesn't matter right now when he's lying half-clothed with an angel.

 

Time slows. Harry lets his eyes wander Louis' chest-- he's seen the boy's stomach many times, the two boys being very comfortable around each other changing and wearing not-so-much casually, but this is an  _ entirely _ different context. He allows himself to admire everything, from his squishy tummy to prominent, protruding rib cage, to every freckle and hair and scar. He wants to lick it all, Louis' tummy decidedly being the most delicious thing Harry has ever seen.

 

God, if that's how he looks right now, imagine those rounded hips and perfectly pudgy thighs up close. Harry hopes he doesn't drool.

 

"I want to suck you," Louis declares innocently. By the way his full eyelashes and pouted lips face Harry like a little kid asking for candy, the rousing  _ dirty  _ feeling of this is teetering on too much for Harry to handle.

 

"We should maybe stand up," he suggests. Harry nods along, letting Louis do as much work as he can himself as Harry is still learning the ropes. "Just stand against the bed,-- yeah! Like that! Perfect, baby," Louis tells him as he positions himself on his knees.

 

Louis hooks two fingers into each side of Harry's track pants and pulls down  _ slowly _ , leaving boxers on just to tease. He lets go as soon as the elastic waistband gets under the man's knees and it falls to his feet. 

 

Darting back up, Louis, licking more than kissing, attaches his mouth to the nethermost exposed section of his V-line. Harry let's a groan rumble out of the deep end of his throat and grabs the back of Louis' neck  to loosely grip something-- he needs  _ anything _ right now.

 

"You can pull my hair again, if you want," Louis tells him as he thumbs over the spit-slick patch of skin.

 

Harry nods, moving his arm in a way that seems almost robotic with the built-up tension. Louis smiles into the skin his lips are pressed against, making Harry cry out, "uhh, Louis, please."

 

Without warning, Louis reaches his left hand up Harry's semi-loose boxers and holds his dick from underneath, gentle fingers touching all the right places and ghosting just light enough for Harry to  _ 'uh'  _ twice as loud as his normal talking voice.

 

With his other, stronger hand, Louis above the boxers and starts jerking Harry off through a layer of thin cloth. Harry releases another  _ loud  _ moan from the much more intense force against his cock. He can't decide between throwing his head back or touching his chin to his chest, but does the latter when he sees Louis' sweet, pleading, baby blue eyes; despite the innocence behind his eyelashes and within the soft pink of his cheeks, he has a victorious smirk and works his hand with such skill and confidence that can't be faked.

 

Harry pulls his hair again. Louis' movements stutter for a fraction of a second, but he resumes his mild, consistent speed of jerking the younger man off.

 

"Ff-- uh, Lou, Lou, Lou...," Harry babbles nonsensically. He feels utterly wasted and useless, making no more movements than slight reactions and gripping and releasing Louis' fringe. "Baby, baby--."

 

Louis stops completely, not dropping Harry's cock from his hold but halting movement. Harry whines at the loss of friction, but his dissatisfaction only lasts for a minute before he pulls on Louis' hair to motion  _ up _ .

 

Seemingly, Louis gets the message Harry had tried to convey, quickly moving from knees to his feet. Harry takes note of how Louis gets onto his tip toes to kiss.

 

"Mhmm, Haz," Louis says, satisfied, before pulling back. He wears his dopiest, happiest smile as he inspects his boyfriend's face.

 

Harry, finding a small burst of confidence in himself, reaches fingertips to the waistband of Louis' trackies. Moving his mouth to the shell of his ear, Harry whispers, "I think you're wearing a little too many clothes right now."

 

Louis whimpers, eagerly nodding before putting his smaller hands on top of Harry's to assist in the removal of his clothing. In a few seconds, both boys are left in only pants, Harry wearing more typical, masculine, navy boxers while Louis sports orange-ish briefs. Harry almost growls at the sight of the pretty, tight underpants, how they fit over Louis' full, pudgy arse perfect enough for him to get a sight of despite the covering.

 

"Can I blow you?" Louis asks; his voice conveys he's asking for something like help on homework or for permission to go to the bathroom more than proposing committing such a sinful,  _ dirty _ act on his boyfriend. Harry nods, likely releasing a 'gosh,' as he does so.

 

Louis is eager to get back on his knees, now using his balled-up trackies for cushion as he adjusts himself on top of the bruising carpet. He lets his fingers lightly brush over Harry's erection while it still hid under fabric, but the effort was only one-handed and lasted for just several seconds before his free hand removed the pants from Harry's hip.

 

As the boxers fall past Harry's cock, then beyond his knees, Louis moans at the newly seen skin-- skin never seen, never  _ touched _ , completely being Louis' now that his breath begins to tickle where Harry's pubes are. Harry has never felt dirtier, and is only discovering how good dirty truly is.

 

"You're so big," Louis comments as he reaches to tug Harry's cock once again. "New you were big, but, fuck, baby. So, so perfect-- can't wait to feel you fill up into me stomach."

 

The boy's voice has become rougher already; Harry can imagine his own would come out similarly. Just as Harry begins re-lacing his fingers into Louis' waves, his cock gets stroked by a warm, wet entity as Louis kitten licks the head. Harry moans, bucks his hip forward, but Louis dodges the push.

 

"Let me take care of you," Louis says-- it's so generic, but Harry would be lying if he said it didn't turn him on.

 

"Okay," Harry breaths out, just before Louis takes the entire head into his mouth. Harry moans, but focuses all of his willpower into stilling his hips. Louis licks again, flicking his tongue at the underside intermittently and rotating his own head. After what may have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes, he sinks himself down further and takes half of Harry into his mouth at once.

 

"Uh, Lou, please, gosh."

 

Louis pulls off then wiping his bottom lip as he half-giggles. Looking up at Harry, his blue eyes seem to physically twinkle.

 

Dizzily, Harry grabs his hair to pull him up for a kiss.

 

Smirking between kisses, Louis murmurs, "mm, do you like tasting yourself off my tongue?"

 

And that, combined with the slight friction of his cock against Louis' hip, has him coming instantly.

 

He feels embarrassed, wanting to hide himself head-to-toe, but embarrassment only goes so far as he feels his boyfriend's finger graze his sensitive dick to gather up come from his thigh. Harry can hardly look as Louis takes a white-coated finger to his moist, cherry lips and sucks it like an ice lolly.

 

It's way sexier than it has any right to be.

 

"Uhh, Lou," Harry groans, leaning his head forward to rest on the shorter man's.

 

Louis giggles. "What? Tastes good, really." Harry crinkles his nose and shakes his head in response. Louis reaches down to his thigh, scooping up a little more of the thick liquid onto his finger and lifting it. "You should try some."

  
  


Harry is mildly disgusted with himself as he caves-- lets Louis' finger prod past his lips as he laps his tongue over his own come; it tastes horrid, genuinely, but he hums contently despite the opposing expression tainting his face. It feels so  _ dirty _ , but Harry had only just realised how good dirty can feel.

 

"'M sorry for coming," Harry says, quiet enough he almost hopes Louis missed it. It's embarrassing, really, being unable to last more than five minutes. He hopes Louis understands it as a compliment.

 

Louis kisses him quickly, just a peck, before comforting "it's all good, love. Glad you know I'm hot." He winks, which has Harry blushing more, if it's even physically possible.

 

Harry laughs. "Yes, best boyfriend."

 

Kissing him again, Louis murmurs, "love when you call me that."

 

Louis comes on his own stomach, with the assistance of both his hand and Harry's much larger one, before both boys pass out in bed.

 

***

 

Harry smirks to himself as Louis just begins to push down the waste band of sweatpants, revealing a sexy, black lace splayed across his gorgeous hips.

 

"Fuck, Lou, you're so sexy, baby," Harry says through gritted teeth as his husband continues to strip.

 

Louis giggles at that, leaning in for a quick kiss. "Can't believe I finally got you to swear in bed," he murmurs, only making Harry giggle along with him.

 

After that, Louis resumes stripping as Harry lies back and watches.

 

This is the boy Harry had lost his virginity to, had his sexual awakening because of, at the age of sixteen, when he was just a kid in love, and, after building a life with him over the following decade and some, he can confirm he made all the right decisions from the start.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> please consider following my tumblr (loml-lou) and checking back for future fics!
> 
> feedback in comments is appreciated! this is my first time writing smut in my life, which i held off mentioning to avoid people clicking off, but it would help me a lot for suggestions and tips for the future!
> 
> thank you so so much, have a lovely day <3 :D


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